Page 74 of Sun, Moon & Shadow

“I can’t say. Nova needs me.”

“Running, running, running,” Thorn mumbled, lazily tilting his head back. “Always running away.”

Callan tensed at his uncle’s words but said nothing.

“When will you stop, Callan?” He shook his head, the drink preventing him from masking his disappointment.

“I’m not running away. I have no choice,” Callan said, his voice a low growl. He glanced from side to side to see whether anyone was watching their exchange. “Nova is in danger.”

Leaning forward, Thorn stared down at his nephew, his brow creased in thought.

“Are you bonded to her?” Thorn’s forehead relaxed a degree as if he’d finally uncovered the solution to a vexing riddle. “I see no other reason why you so readily risk yourself for her time and time again.”

Callan opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

He had never known a bonded pair. While common Fae honored the bond, an all-consuming pull toward another, nobles favored strategic alliances, ensuring the preservation of ancient bloodlines. His own parents’ union had been an arranged one. One where love and devotion bloomed after they were joined and not before.

The noise in the hall faded to a low hum. Callan stood frozen, unable to hear anything above the insistent, rapid beating of his own heart. Was this what it felt like to be bonded to someone? Wanting to protect them and desiring their safety and happiness regardless of the cost?

Finally, he found words to answer his uncle. “She means more to me than my own life.”

Thorn rolled his eyes but nodded once.

“Let us hope you return to Nivali in one piece,” he said. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the five months left on our bargain.”

The magic binding Callan to the agreement slithered along the markings on his wrists. He nodded silently in farewell and strode through the hall, past the drunken onlookers and out into the frigid night.

The mouth of the tunnel lay gaping before him, unused for centuries and all but forgotten. Nearly hidden by a patch of overgrown evergreen bushes and partially blocked by the trunks of several fallen trees, it was indistinguishable from the dozens of caves dotting the landscape roughly an hour’s ride north of the Nivali Estate. As Callan sat and stared, gently stroking the side of Frost’s neck, a faint glimmer of magic rippled across the opening. Frost snorted nervously, and Callan murmured a few words to calm the beast. Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he urged his horse forward and into the portal connecting Nivali and Silvergard.

He emerged in a clearing mere minutes later, surrounded by leafless trees, their gnarled trunks the washed-out color of driftwood. The guiding star, Illora, shone bright overhead. Callan followed it north to the capital, pushing Frost at a gallop the entire journey, lasting several hours. The guards on the city wall granted him entry without delay, as if he’d been expected. When Callan finally came to a halt in the black stone courtyard in front of the Silvergard Estate, his horse was nearly spent, white froth gathering at the corners of the animal’s mouth. Fortunately, they hadn’t encountered any dark beasts along the way. Frost would have been too drained to outrun a lycane or yaesira.

Callan slid down from the saddle and handed his mount off to a waiting stable hand, impatient strides carrying him toward the entrance. He’d reached the base of the massive stone steps when a figure emerged from the shadows, quickly descending to meet him. The starlight illuminated a face Callan recognized from the day Nova was taken from him. It belonged to the Commander of the Guard.

“Am I glad to see y—”

Callan’s fist shot out without warning, hammering the commander solidly in the jaw. The male’s torso twisted with the impact, but he remained on his feet. Two guards rushed down from the top of the steps, but the commander waved them off, swiping his hand across his mouth and turning back to Callan. Callan shook his own hand against the stab of pain radiating up his forearm. If he hadn’t been wearing gloves, he might have split his knuckles on the male’s sharp canine.

“Suppose I should have expected that,” the commander said, amber eyes glinting, his bloody lip curled in a faint smile. He extended a hand. “Gods know I deserved it. I’m Lucan. Come with me. We don’t have much time.”

Callan followed Lucan inside the imposing structure and through the Great Hall, its high ceiling made entirely of glass. Callan fought the urge to gawk at the countless orbs of moonstone fixed to the walls and hanging from enormous chandeliers suspended above the large open area. He fixed his attention on the commander’s back, but took note of the flurry of guards posted around the edge of the room in his periphery.

Lucan led him through a grand library to a door tucked in the back corner. A comfortable study lay beyond it. Callan stood at attention just inside the room as Lucan closed the door. Sitting behind a wide desk was the Noble Lord of Silvergard, severe in appearance with alabaster skin and sharp features. His dark eyes widened as he registered the commander’s bloodstained teeth. Lucan said nothing but shook his head dismissively, dabbing at his mouth with his sleeve.

The Noble Lord grinned.

“Apologies for the intrusion.” He tapped a long finger against his temple. “I had no other way to reach you as quickly, and time is already against us.”

Callan recognized the warm, low voice as the one that had pulled him from a dead sleep.

The commander fell into a leather armchair opposite the desk.

“I appreciate you summoning me, my Lord,” Callan bowed his head.

“Please, call me Nox.” He motioned for Callan to take a seat.

Though he felt too anxious to sit and had spent the past several hours riding hard in a saddle, Callan obliged, not wanting to offend Nova’s uncle. He perched on the edge of the cushion, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned toward Nox.

“I’d like to see Nova,” Callan said, getting straight to the point.